Of Corpse and Rings
by nOnymOus
Summary: They want to stop fighting. Stop butting in Pansy. slash DMRW


My first ever HP fanifc! –does happy dance- Dedicated to my academic paper and all the articles written about HP slash xDD

"Can a heart still break even after its stopped beating?" –Corpse Bride (the movie I was watching when I wrote this xD. Victor is sooo hawt x3)

--

It all started with hatred.

They were opposites from the inside towards the outside. He was nearing bankruptcy; he was rich. He was tall; he was shorter by a couple of inches. He was Potter's best friend; he was Potter's enemy. He came from Gryffindor; he came from Slytherin. He was a Weasley; he was a Malfoy. The reasons were quite obvious.

"Malfoy, you are in _my_ way. Get your ruddy face away."

"Did it ever strike your pitiful mind, Weasley that everything is not about you?" a gruff voice asks, dripping with sarcasm. The red head snorts.

"Why? Because it's about you?"

Glares are exchanged and Ron is being pulled back by Harry before a rough fist fight can ensue. Seven years have passed and nothing has changed between the Malfoy versus Potter friends but at least Harry had finally gained self-discipline. Unlike Ron who seemed to rather look forward to any insinuations of fights that could occur.

"Tsk, tsk Weasel. Still have to be tamed by Potty and that mudblood? Don't make me laugh more than I can handle."

"Shut it Malfoy. He didn't do anything to you."

"Yea, Ron. C'mon, let's leave him alone.."

There was something about the Malfoy that made the red head's blood boil. Maybe it was because the blonde would continuously mock his family, friends, self, and everything. Ron knew, however, that there had to be a deeper reason than that. Hatred was such a strong word and you cannot simply base it on such shallow things. The reason would not present itself and left Ron puzzled. He did not care for the blonde's wealth or anything. He just hated.. hated him. Did he even need a reason? Maybe Malfoy was just the type of person you didn't need a reason to hate. God, there has to be a deeper meaning to this!

Meanwhile, Draco himself was puzzled. He noticed that his taunting of Potter had simply adjusted to Weasley. Not that he ever mocked Weasley; it's just seemed that the ability to make fun of Potter managed to move to Weasley. Not that minded, right? It's just that there was something about Weasley. It amused the blonde that even the smallest detail could make the red head's temper rise. It also amused him to see the red head squirm his way out with every defense he could use. Poor boy trusted his fists more than this wand. Draco snorted; he used to think Weasley was smarter than that.

Yes, hatred was obviously the chemistry that made them.

But no; it did not mean hatred always had to be their chemistry.

Hatred, like all things, can also melt away. That's what happened. One day, both boys realized that it was gone. But both could never admit it to himself, much less to each other. A façade is built without either boy realizing it.

"Weasley could you actually move any slower than that?" A question is shot, in the middle of transferring classrooms. The hallway is jam packed with students and Draco has no choice but to sulkily follow behind Potty and friends. Draco decides to taunt the weasel, having nothing to do, but not really wanting to.

Ron whips around, eyes narrowed. The fire is gone in his eyes; he no longer has the effort to fight. He tries to answer anyway; he couldn't let Draco think he won.

The reply never comes. Instead, Ron gives in to his unwillingness and leaves. The Slytherins whoop in delight but Draco takes no notice of them. He breathes in relief, glad it ended quickly.

That was the last one they ever had. Both sides of the party felt differently. The Gryffindors were glad that it was over; the Slytherins wanted to see the Weasel King take another blow. One thing was mutually asked though: why?

In truth, they had no idea either. It just became so pointless and annoying. Besides, they were running out of ideas for comebacks and hooks and whatnot. But again, that just couldn't be the reason.

There had to be more.

--

Ron didn't know when it happened.

Them being together.

And him being.. what?

In the morning of sometime ago, he saw them come in through the giant doorways of the Great Hall. Wait, no. It was Harry who saw and his reaction was what caused Ron to notice them.

"Ugh, who would've thought Malfoy swung that way?" the brunette asked. Hermione and Ron whisked their heads about, searching for the mentioned boy. Hermione found the blonde first and pointed him out to Ron. Indeed, there was Malfoy and latched onto him, prouder than a baby's bottom, was Pansy Parkinson.

"You thought Malfoy was gay?" Hermione asked, surprised. Harry shrugged commenting that Malfoy had the looks for it and changed the course of their conversation.

Ron was, at that point, not listening anymore. He was trying to discreetly observe the couple. Harry was right; Malfoy did look like he swung the other way. The blonde didn't seem to be his usual, lax self. Rather, he was tensed, stiff, obviously not used to having a Pansy. Girlfriend, call it what you will. The couple sat down, Malfoy looking spaced out, Pansy looking smug. Something knotted in his stomach; something that wasn't breakfast food, he was sure. Suddenly, the thought of breakfast makes him sick as he glues his eyes on the Slytherin table. Ginny's voice breaks his thoughts though, and he gladly trails his eyes off.

The few days were horrible. It was as if the school was secretly mocking him. Every corner he turned to, they were there. Every secluded classroom he passed by, they were there. As Harry described it: ugh.

"Where's Parkinson?"

It surprised Ron one day to see Malfoy without his girl. He saw Malfoy after Quidditch practice that day. It was nearly dark and the blonde was hidden away by the lake, smoking. Where he got the cigarettes, the red head didn't know but that was beside the point.

They spend the evening talking. How they 'got together', why Pansy needed help. Draco didn't know _why_ he had to explain to Weasel King that he wasn't really seeing Pansy. He explains that he didn't really want to be involved but he had no choice. The blonde tells Weasley that after that, no more girls, just guys. He tells him the history of his sexuality. Draco doesn't know why he has to emphasis his homosexuality but does anyway.

When he returns to the dungeons, Pansy corners him and asks him how it went. Draco asks her what she means and she says she saw them together. Draco is still confused. He just had a conversation with Weasley, which is taking a toll on him, and now Pansy starts spouting weird sentences. He shrugs her off and retreats to his dorm.

Meanwhile, Ron returns to the common room. Hermione and Harry ask what took him so long, why he missed dinner but he doesn't listen to the questions. He just nods his head and toddles of to bed, light as a broomstick.

After that conversation, it happened.

Draco didn't know why it happened, it just did.

At first, they were merely stolen glances across the Great Hall. No, not just the Great Hall. During Potions, that giant's class, hallways, any way. It made the Slytherin happy to see Weasley happy and.. flushed? Did he always look like that? Probably. What caused it, Draco didn't know. He suspected Potty had something to do with it but refused to follow that thought. He had no plans of disgusting himself during meal times. That was the main reason why he looked at Weasley, not Potty.

Draco was content with seeing Weasley's red face until the desire to touch Weasley came. Draco thought he would vomit but he didn't. Instead, he wanted to succumb into his desire.

Next thing he knew, he was trying to do just that.

He'd brush his shoulder against the red head's when they'd cross ways in hallways. He'd brush his fingers against the red head's when getting a flask for their potion. Once, some weird driving force compelled him to go behind him and poke his butt. Poor Weasley thought it was the fifth year who passed by. Draco was disappointed; he wanted Weasley to think it was him who did it. Ah well, he still got a good look of the red head.

Ron wished Malfoy would stop. He knew Malfoy kept looking at him and he didn't want the blonde to stop. Actually, he wouldn't mind if he could just stop his face from reddening every time he spots Malfoy checking him out. It wasn't creeping but he didn't want other people to see either. His friends were already growing concerned with him, always asking him if he was already. He was sick of the questions and he was sick of having to say no, he wasn't sick, hot or whatnot.

But then, maybe Malfoy really wasn't checking him out. If he was, why does he rudely bump into him when they pass each other? Why does Malfoy knock his hand off the flask? Why does Malfoy not hex that fifth year who he thought just stabbed his ass?

--

Thankfully, the end comes with a kiss but it is not a regular kiss. It did not have butterflies, fireworks, confetti. What it contained was sadness, clumsiness, hesitation. It did not happen during a school dance or any event concerning dancing. It happened on their last night of school. A war is about to break out the next day and they both know they work on opposite sides of the war.

"I cannot believe it took you this long to tell me," Ron scoffs.

"I cannot believe you didn't tell me that you knew. I always knew you had a pitiful brain, Weasley," Draco retaliates.

No parting words were exchanged. Hormones controlled took the steering wheel and after that, they watch with regret as morning comes.

--

Wish I could at least write smut buuuuut I can't. xP


End file.
